


Not So Many Kicks

by Captains_Orders



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Modern AU, Mutual Pining, The Wives ship Max/Furiosa, diner au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 18:46:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5551280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captains_Orders/pseuds/Captains_Orders
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mad Max Secret Santa gift for spizacki</p><p>Furiosa is a truck driver who frequents a diner on Route 66 where the most exciting thing to happen in years is the new regular highwayman, who Furiosa finds is much different than what she expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not So Many Kicks

**Author's Note:**

> First off Happy Holidays to spizaki on tumblr and a heartfelt sorry for this being late! I hope you had a great time and that you enjoy this little gift. I sort of tossed a bunch of your wishlist together and hopefully made something you were hoping for!
> 
> Also it was very hard to not write angst, but I did it I'm so proud.
> 
> This may end up being a multichapter something...
> 
> Unbetad

The Giddy Up is an old truck stop off Route 66 in the middle of ass-end Arizona, a haven for anyone cursed to drive down that particular stretch of desert road. Furiosa has been coming to it since she was a girl on the back of her mother’s bike. When The Vuvalini would drive through on their annual cross-country ride and Miss Giddy would sit them down and serve slices of fresh cool citrus pies and cheesecakes or baked pie dolloped with rich vanilla ice-cream so sweet and cold she would forget the heat and sun with every bite. Since she started trucking her visits have become far more frequent, her routes most often passing by it then not. It’s changed much since she was a girl, in a good growing way, aging and changing with the times. Miss Giddy doesn’t work near as much as she used to now that age is taking its toll, she still owns the place, but she leaves the majority of the operation in the hands of the five young women she’s taken under her wing over the years. With no children of her own the girls have become her heirs, running the Giddy Up like they were born to. The dinner is now its own entity, worth the stop even if you don’t need the gas, but they still have Giddy’s dessert recipes, and for that Furiosa will be forever thankful.

This time her stop is governed by all the reasons one would need to go to The Giddy Up, an empty tank, descending dark, and growing hunger. So she pulls her rig into a free spot amidst tankers and haulers, and locks up so she can slip in at Splendid’s before the night rush. 

Splendid’s is at the back of the building, the registers sit from and center of the rather unique rest stop, typical drinks and snacks mingled with local crafts and interesting wares, beside that are the trucker driver’s showers (her favorite update to the establishment) and nestled behind it all is the little diner. It’s been almost a month since her last stop in, a record since she started trucking, and oh how she has missed it.

She ends up in her usual booth near the back by one of the big windows, a great view of nothing but dirt, but she comes here for the food, and that’s always good. Thursday night special is lasagna, and for how popular the dish is the diner is surprisingly quiet, just how she likes it.

Angharad slips into the opposite side of the booth the second she finishes her meal, placing a slice of key lime pie on the table between them and waits.

“Shouldn’t you be working?”

“Shouldn’t you be driving?” Lips quirk and then they’re both laughing. Angharad was the first girl Miss Giddy took in, sixteen and angry at the world. Giddy had given her purpose, prospects, the support she so desperately needed, and now Angharad, a girl Furiosa had practically seen grow up, is now running the business. Over the years they’ve become friends, really she’s become friends with all the young women, and she cares for them deeply.

“So how’ve the roads been?” The blonde asks after the laughter subsides.

“Roads are roads, you know 66 can be a nightmare. How are things here?”

“Good since you were here last. Got a new regular.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, a highway patrolman, nice guy, real quiet.” She cocks an eyebrow at that, suddenly curious. Back when she was younger (and much more stupid) she’d had more than her fair share of run ins with highwaymen while racing down the road with Valkyrie on their bikes, losing her arm had put an end to that.

“A nice highwayman?”

“Oh please you haven’t even met him! He’s a nice guy, and he actually seems to care.”

“Alright, alright. I’m sure he’s great.” Angharad shoots her a pointed unamused glare before getting up, making a show of dusting off her apron. The young woman mutters something surely offensive under her breath and pats her shoulder, and then she’s back to flitting between tables before disappearing into the kitchen.

Turns out the infamous highwayman is one Officer Rockatansky, she has yet to meet him, but almost every time she stops at The Giddy Up the girls have something good to say about him. With each stop she learns something new about him over the next few months, and admittedly she’s curious about the highway patrolman from Australia who seems to not have only earned the girls’ respect, but care as well. No small feat for a man, and she wonders about him more often than she cares to admit. She only tries to picture him once, ends up conjuring an image of Crocodile Dundee with a badge and immediately stops.

Apparently they’ve been in the building together a few times but somehow haven’t met yet, and she doesn’t understand why the girls won’t just introduce them since they seem intent on mentioning him so much, not that she’d say anything or they’d get ideas. But she can’t help her curiosity.

It takes three more stops at The Giddy Up for her to run into the ever evasive Officer Rockatansky under rather undesirable circumstances.

Furiosa has never been modest about her nudity, growing up mostly on the road with so many other girls in close quarters made nakedness rather unexciting unless Valkyrie decided to roll up her towel and choose a victim to snap it at. Typically the showers are miraculously empty, only one or two of the ten ever occupied at a time partially out of some sense of professional respect of privacy between truck drivers, and partially out of lucky timing. Showers are a quick thing since she shaved her head, but she wouldn’t trade the convenience for anything, no more high water bills, and she’s in and out from under the hot spray in a handful of minutes. It’s more surprising than mortifying to run into someone outside the shower stall when she finally dries and slips out. For that person also to be fresh out of the shower in nothing but a towel makes for poor timing, but it’s not until she notices that the towel is around the waist of a rather unfortunately attractive man that things get a tad awkward.

“Uh sorry, didn’t um uh…”

“No worries.” The casual dismissal doesn’t work for either of them.

“Right.” He nods, still shifting nervously from foot to foot, and then he lets out a whoosh of breath and steps away, making an awkward limping retreat into the men’s locker-room. With that she’s left standing in the middle of the stalls absolutely baffled, and judging by the heat in her cheeks, blushing to top it all off. Not how she wanted to start off a day with a near fourteen hour drive in her future.

Getting dressed goes just as smooth as showering, she’s rather adept at it one-handed, but it still takes her longer than she’d like because of her prosthesis, but she makes due. All she can hope for now is that breakfast goes without incident.

It doesn’t.

The moment she steps into the diner she knows something’s up. Capable, oh so unsubtle Capable, is grinning an almost unsettling grin as she grabs a menu from the front podium and leads her to her booth. She hasn’t needed a menu to this place for fifteen years. There’s someone sitting in her booth and Capable hands them a menu before urging her forward.

“Furiosa, this is Officer Rockatansky.” Well fuck. Is the only thing she can think when he turns to face her, much more dressed since she ran into him in the showers. This is not what she expected at all when it came to the ever elusive highwayman. Capable is still hovering, so she slips into the booth across from him and holds out her flesh hand. The redhead moves on to the next table the second she sits, traitor.

“Good to finally meet you, officer.” A grunt is the only response he gives, but he extends his hand and shakes her own cordially, briefly, hand a bit clammy like he’s nervous for some reason. Maybe meeting mostly naked has something to do with that. “Heard a lot about you from the girls, nice to finally put a face to the name.” Considering it’s such a nice face…

“They’re um, they’re good kids.” He nods, tongue darting out to wet his plush lips and she can’t help but track the movement before tearing her gaze away to meet his eyes again.

“Yeah, all about as subtle as a brick wall though.” She snorts. It makes him smile slightly, a short soft chuckle rumbling through his chest and she cocks a grin, the atmosphere immediately clearing of awkwardness. “Can’t believe it took so long to finally run into each other.”

“Glad though.” A soft response that comes with another hum, and his eyes are beautiful and sincere and she finds herself smiling again.

“Yeah, me too.”

They eat and drink in mostly silence, and it’s more comfortable than she expected. He doesn’t talk much, only a comment or question exchanged here and there, but she’s never been one for idle conversation anyway, so it works. It’s nice. 

It’s the start of something, she’s not sure what, but there’s an easy understanding between them, and she finds herself looking forward to seeing Officer Rockatansky again. She should have asked for his name. They don’t run into each other often, but the few times they do they share a booth at Splendid’s no matter the time of day, an unspoken thing that simply happens. He ends up talking more, opening up, less short words and more full sentences. He came to America around ten years ago after a bad accident he’s yet to elaborate on, got his citizenship, and eventually got a job as a highway patrolman. Apparently he’d been a cop, always better at driving than anything else, so he’d taken the job because he didn’t know what else to do with himself. It’s something she understands. Driving is in her blood, a bone deep hum to gun an engine and never stop, after the loss of her arm, trucking had been the only way to do it for a living, and now nothing beat the rumbling of her tanker eating up miles of asphalt.

This thing they have now is simple, a camaraderie of sorts that warms her, something she looks forward to, something that’s quickly turning into something else she’s not sure she wants. Furiosa doesn’t pine, she’s never been the kind of person to yearn for the affections of another, but there’s is a part of her that misses him when she doesn’t see him at the Giddy Up.

Christmas comes quick, faster every year until fall slips through her fingers and its winter, colder than it’s been in years. Her route starts from home in Phoenix, which is still borderline hot, and heads up to Flagstaff before starting her longest haul of the year. It’s the only time she wishes The Giddy Up was further away. She doesn’t even make it to The Giddy Up, hardly makes it on to 66 before the storm hits. Snow. Fucking snow. In Arizona of all places, what a way to start this nightmare route. As a truck driver, she knows how to drive in the stuff, part of the job, but this close to the mountains it's miserable and it’s not long before she can hardly see the road ahead of her so she pulls over. At least she’s smart enough to have a space heater and every other cold and hot weather commodity crammed into the back cab of her rig. The space heater, battery operated and worth every penny, fills the space with a much appreciated warmth as she sets up her electric kettle in the hopes of making hot cocoa. If she’s going to be stuck here for a few hours might as well make it enjoyable.

There’s a knock on the cab door, something she would have dismissed as her imagination if it wasn’t quickly followed by another. The knife she keeps in her emergency kit is in her hand in an instant, held tight behind her back before she throws the door open and comes face to face with…

“Max?” He’s standing there shivering in his customary black leather jacket, sagging with what looks like relief when he sees her, but it might just be the cold.

“Sorry, I uh saw the rig, just wanted to make sure you were okay.” Warmth floods her chest and surely her cheeks at his concern. Damn the man he’s not helping where her feelings are concerned A burst of wind abruptly reminds her that it’s absolutely freezing outside and Max is still standing there red faced from the cold. Furiosa suddenly feels bold, but she also thinks he might turn blue if he stays out in the snow for much longer.

“Want to come in? At least until the storm passes, it's freezing out here.” He hesitates for a moment, until he nods and follows her inside, shaking flakes of snow from his clothes. The warmth of the cab takes the tenseness from his shoulders, and lets out a long blissful sigh. It does nothing to her, really. “You can put your coat on the passenger’s seat, no need to wear cold leather.” He grunts his thanks, shrugging out of the old leather and placing it delicately across the back of the seat. His shirt fits him very well and she should really not be noticing these things but it’s getting increasingly difficult in the cramped quarters of the cab.

“Want some hot chocolate? Got it all set, packet stuff so not the real deal, but it’ll warm you up.”

“Uh yeah, that sounds nice.” There’s a long pause before that last word and damn they haven’t been this awkward around each other since that first encounter in the showers. And that’s not something she should be thinking about right now.

“You can sit if you’d like.” She says with a gesture to her small built in cot, trying not to think about it too much. “Marshmallows?” One of the few things that keeps on the road, makes winter a bit more bearable.

“Please.” The silence is deep, not their usual comfortable lack of speech and it’s just not right, not what she wants, she wants their easy companionship back desperately and damn she needs to say something.

“Growing up it snowed every winter I can remember, thought it was the greatest thing ever until I started driving. Now? Not so much.” She chuckles at the memory and hears his soft rumbling laugh from behind her. There, that’s what she wanted, easy banter and a laugh. Before she can say more the water is boiled and the kettle is beeping, providing the perfect distraction.

“Never really saw snow ‘til I moved here, definitely different from back home. Everything is.”

“In a good way?” It slips out before she can stop it, and now maybe she’s stirring the packet of cocoa mix into the first mug a little too fast as she waits for his answer as she stares at the swirling beverage intently.

“Yeah, hm definitely a good way.” Their eyes meet when she glances over her shoulder at him and damn this should be easier. They’re teetering on the edge of something and she hates to admit that she’s afraid of tipping everything between them off balance. But when he says that, the way he says it, it makes her want to do stupid, crazy, reckless things.

Their fingers don’t brush when she hands him the mug, she won’t let them, but he takes the drink with the smallest smile and she wishes they had. Maybe it’s the mug, she only keeps two in the rig in case one breaks, of course the most ridiculous gag mugs Val has gifted her over the years. Maybe she shouldn’t have given him ‘Drive it like you stole it’… Her own warm mug helps steady her flesh fingers when she turns to face him again, and when she sits beside him with plenty of space between them. The silence isn’t so bad now as they sip at their drinks. It feels more like it should, easy, and she finally lets herself relax.

“It’s good.” She snorts that.

“Sure.”

“I’m serious.”

“It’s a good package then, not like I did anything but put marshmallows in it.”

“You mixed it well.”

“Fool.” She chides fondly as they slip back into their usual easy banter. When she looks at him again there’s a smudge of frothy white chocolate at the corner of his mouth and before she can stop herself she’s leaning over and licking it from his skin. What the fuck? Is the only thing running through her head.

“Fuck I’m so sorry! I don’t-” Fuck, she’s fucked it all up now, crossed every line and probably ruined the first good new relationship she’s made in years.

“Furiosa.” A calloused palm cups her cheek, cutting off the rest of her mortified apology. There’s a look in his eyes, like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t, instead he leans in slowly. Slow enough that she could easily stop him, prevent this whole thing, this mistake in the making. But damn if she doesn’t want this. Then he’s kissing her, and maybe change isn’t so bad.


End file.
